Write a short story ending with a question

There I was volunteering for the RSPCA every Sunday and daily applying for jobs which doesn't reach my potential where other 21 year olds are spending their Sunday mornings in bed demanding cups of coffee and 500mg of paracetamol from either their parents or their exclusive lover they have met the night before whilst binge drinking cheap alcohol yet their concentration is set on their Facebook page even with a hangover. My size 7 feet have swalloned up to a size 12 and blistered badley enough for any living soul with the slightest of vision to turn their backs on but, hey ho! I no longer feel burnt from walking on charcoal bare footed - just numbness. I regularly have to remind myself that I have not had a bucket of oil thrown at me from head to toe at my morbidly obese body as I leave trails of smelly fluid from sweat. Hell was exactly how I imagined flames big and gigantic towering one other the other. There are many of unsolved questions I ask myself one of them being why am I down here and not up there?

SHORT STORY TO BE CONTINUED